


Stirrings

by amuk



Series: PH-Fanfest [30]
Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Introspection, Missing Scene, Self-Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not an Echo thing to do. To feel. --Echo, Oz</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stirrings

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Prompt 2--Paradox
> 
> A/N: My least favourite of the bunch. :/ I really wanted to focus on how Echo was changing from an ‘Echo’, but I don’t think it came across.

 

The blue clip was still in her hair when she arrived at the Nightray Manor.  Echo paused at the door, reaching up for it slowly.

 

Vincent wouldn’t like to see it. That much she was certain of—as much as Vincent loved his brother, he hated Oz.  Maybe it was because Gil clearly preferred Oz. She’d seen the stare Vincent gave the young boy, the way his fists clenched.

 

She had seen this so many times but this was the first time she had actually considered it. This difference of feelings, these extremes in actions—she had never really cared about it before.

 

She wasn’t sure when she started. Only, now this clip was not just a clip, not to her nor to Vincent.

 

At least she had changed her clothes. A clip was an easier thing to hide.

 

No, not hide. Noise would know of where it was, no matter where Echo hid it. Noise already knew of its existence, was watching it from within the dark sea that was their soul. She had never tried to hide it from her other before, from the real ‘Echo’, but for once, she wanted to try.

 

Rolling it in her hand, she stared at the blue feather.  The tale of two lovers, the meaning of the feather—it crossed her mind and her skin felt hot.

 

This wasn’t something she understood, the weight and significance of the gift. She traced the curve of the feather and something stirred within her.

 

(A year ago, a month ago, a week ago, she wouldn’t have reacted this way. This wasn’t an Echo thing to do. This wasn’t an Echo thing to feel.)

 

Something was changing and she didn’t know what.


End file.
